Amber Collins – Page 5 – Victoria's Lift

Julia looked at the text on her cell phone. She blinked a few times and read it again. Blunt and right to it.

Mom’s dead. When can you come home?

Her brother was a lot of things, but subtle wasn’t one of them.

She started to write several texts in response, mostly sarcastic, but decided to respond in kind.

Tomorrow morning.

She stared at the phone for nearly a full minute until the response came back.

She sighed.

She lived in Erie and was only about two hours from Pittsburgh, but it already felt like a million miles away. She slumped in her chair and stared at the picture on her office wall. It was her, her brother Vince, and her mom.

Her now dead mom.

She was going to text him back and ask what had happened, but she could probably guess. Too much booze, not enough insulin, drugs and so much more. She really didn’t want to know. She had been done with her mother for a while now, and honestly couldn’t care less.

What she did care about was the couple of days she was going to lose having to deal with funeral arrangements, her family, and her fucking brother.

She sighed again.

“Death is never convenient,” an old girlfriend had told her once. “If it was, wouldn’t you pick a better time than ‘out of nowhere?’”

Julia smiled slightly to think of her: Marcie. “The Keeper,” Julia had called her, until Marcie decided to be “the one that got away.”

She looked hard at the picture. It had to be at least twenty years old. Her brother, three years younger, just barely a toddler and Julia, a surly-looking five. Their mother was in her early thirties, still beautiful, still present.

Before the divorce. Before it got really bad.

No, Julia corrected her line of thought. It was always bad. It was before Mom got stupid.

She looked down at her phone. She was going to have to ask how their mom died, but that could wait until seeing Vince. Julia picked up the phone. There was some work to do before driving to Erie, and there was no need to wait.

First, she had to cancel her appointments for the week, save for one: to look at a prospective purchase of some abandoned building that was, oddly enough, in Pittsburgh. Julia wanted that one in process for buying soon, and wanted to get a closer look at the inside.

The sooner it was hers, the sooner it could get torn down. The sooner she could do what she did best.

The other appointments would still come through. In fact, the delay due to her mother’s sudden death would probably add what Julia called the “sympathy bonus.” Real estate folks sometimes kicked in a bit extra if there was a delay for deeply personal reasons. Your mom dying was a big one. Not so much grandparents, but parents, siblings, even kids. That was an easy ten percent overage on whatever she would stand to make.

It would help if she could learn to cry on demand.

This thought made her smile a little, and then she stopped herself.

Am I that cold? she thought. Is it all just about money now?

Somewhere inside of her, something nodded, and a little voice said simply, “Yes.”

She nodded to herself and began to cancel appointments.

Julia stood at her mom’s front door in Shadyside and hesitated to knock. There was an oddly overwhelming sense that she should just turn around and go back home. There wasn’t anything for her here anymore. She looked at the mailbox. It was the shitty one she and Vince had made their mom one year for Mother’s Day. What was she, twelve? Jesus, that was a million years ago.

It was an ugly wooden thing that their mom had immediately put up, replacing the old black one that hung off to the left of the front door. This ugly thing hung there now, like a cyst; all black and yellow, with the last name emblazoned in yellow paint, declaring METERUCCI. After the divorce, her mom had had kept the name, refusing to go back to being the less exciting-sounding SMITH from her maiden years.

“Smith is boring,” she’d said. “Meterucci sounds like you might be, you know…dangerous or connected, you know?”

Julia fought and won against the smile that almost spread across her face.

She knocked twice, hard, on the door.

After a moment, the door swung open. Vince stood there, hair screwed up, in dirty t-shirt and boxer shorts. He looked at her and sighed.

“You coulda just come in,” he said, and walked away from the door, adding, “Come get some coffee.”

She grabbed the door handle roughly and yanked it open. She walked in and, out of an old habit, dropped her keys in the large ashtray that sat off to the left on a small table. She regarded the old muscle memory with a grunt and walked through the living room into the small kitchen.

Vince leaned against the kitchen counter with two cups of coffee. He held one out for his sister, who took it. “Cream in the fridge,” he said. “Sugar where it always is.”

She said nothing and took a sip. She grimaced. “Instant?”

He smiled.

“I thought it was appropriate,” he said, holding his mug out. Julia grunted and tapped his mug.

They both took a sip and made the same face.

“I never understood how she could drink this crap,” she said.

Vince chuckled. “She was high all the time,” he said. “She probably couldn’t even taste it.”

“True,” she sighed. “So what happened?”

Vince laughed. “You waited until you got here to ask.”

Julia frowned. “So what?”

“Just typical.”

“Your text said ‘Mom’s dead.’”

“But you didn’t ask.”

“And you didn’t tell. Spill it.”

“How do you think she died?” he said, suddenly angry. “She was drunk and high. She fell and died on her back, choked on her own puke. Like a rock star. Like we always knew she was gonna die.”

Julia joined his anger. “And you couldn’t just say that, could you? Just had to half-ass it like everything else in your life. A ‘Mom’s dead’ text. Beautiful, Vin.”

He was going to say something else, but stopped.

“Look, I’m sorry,” he said finally. “I was the one who found her. It was really messed up to see. I didn’t know what to say. Never had to tell anyone someone was dead.”

Julia looked at him, and his eyes were wet, but not exactly crying.

“Sorry,” she said. “I didn’t even think of that.”

They just looked at each other for a long moment.

“This is so messed up,” Vince said.

“Yeah,” Julia said. “What do we do now?”

“Well,” he started, “we have to pick out something for her to wear in the coffin at the wake.”

“There’s going to be a wake?” she asked. “Who the hell’s going to go to that?”

“Us, for one thing.”

“She didn’t have any friends.”

“How the hell do you know?” Vince snapped. “You haven’t exactly been around. Or called. Or anything.”

“There’s a reason for that,” she said. “And you damn well know it.”

“What, cos she didn’t approve of your little lifestyle? So what?”

“It’s not my ‘little lifestyle,’” Julia said. “I’m a lesbian. It’s what I am, it’s who I am. I didn’t feel like hearing how I was going to hell every time I talked to her.”

“That’s just how she was,” he said.

“Too bad, cos this is just how I am,” she said back.

“You don’t even see the irony in that, do you?”

“Oh, I do,” she said. “It’s just that my ‘little lifestyle’ isn’t going to make me choke on my own puke.”

They stood quiet again.

“We used to be close,” Vince said quietly.

“We did.”

“Why are we angry at each other?”

“I don’t know that I’m angry at you.”

He laughed. “Yeah, a little bit.”

“You angry at me?”

He nodded.

“Why?”

“Because you left.”

Julia shook her head. “No, that’s not true. You stayed. Big difference.”

“Somebody had to take care of her.”

“Wrong. She needed to take care of herself. You needed to get out.”

Vince looked at her hard. This time, he was crying. “But…it was Mom.”

Julia drank the rest of her coffee in one disgusting gulp. “Your mom, certainly not mine,” she said, and put the mug on the counter, hard. “I have to go check out a property. I’ll be back in a few hours. We can discuss details later.”

“A property? You’re working?” His face was one of slight revulsion.

“That’s right,” she said. “I was going to be here eventually anyway. Might as well make the most of it. You’ll be here, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Vince said, turning away. “Of course. I’ll be here. Always here.”

“Right,” she said, and left the kitchen.

Julia walked up to the old nine-story building. It was a little run-down looking, but with some work, she could turn it around, maybe into a really nice, hip apartment complex. It was super close to downtown Pittsburgh, and transportation was right out in front.

But it looked odd, somehow. Like it was brooding.

Or waiting.

She fought off a chill and walked to the door.

She didn’t have a key, but sometimes these old buildings were open. If it was open, she could look around a bit. Not too much; an open door often meant squatters. She had pepper spray and a black belt. She wasn’t too worried.

She couldn’t believe Vince. How dare he talk to her like that?

It was Mom.

He just didn’t get it. And saying it was her ‘little lifestyle.” Bastard. He’d never had to fight for anything, much less work for anything. She was a woman, and a gay woman no less.

She was also goddamn successful.

Not just a successful woman, but a successful gay woman.

All obstacles, and she beat them down. Screw anyone who couldn’t respect that.

“Aren’t you worried about hell?” Mom would say. “Don’t you know it’s evil?”

Then Julia would yell about how she just didn’t understand.

“Aren’t you worried about an overdose?” she’d yell back. “What hell is there for dead junkies, Mom?”

Every time.

The worst part was, her mother would tell her that she wasn’t homophobic. She was just worried, but Julia didn’t buy it. She’d say, “I love you, Jules, but I wish you’d just stop being gay.”

Like it was a switch.

Julia was getting angry again. She was always angry anymore.

But happy content people didn’t make money. And Julia Meterrucci made money.

She found the anger she always harbored was less when she closed a deal, or had a windfall of cash from a longshot paid off in dividends. Like her mom with drugs, Julia got high, but on cold hard cash.

She looked at the front door again and thought she could almost hear the money calling out to her.

She put her hand on the nice ornate doorknob and turned it slowly. She gave a small push, and it opened.

Well, she thought. Here we go.

Time to get high.

The entranceway was dark, as was everywhere she could see. A long hallway was in front of her, but that was really all she could make out. She took her cell phone out of her back pocket and found the flashlight app. She tapped it on and held it in front of her. It spat out bright light, but the hallway darkness seemed to eat it, making visibility limited. Still, she thought, not going to fall over anything.

Or anyone.

She walked slowly forward, moving the light onto things she wanted to see; some old framed paintings, some really nice fixtures, and a carpet that should have looked much more worn than what it looked like now.

There were no cobwebs. It looked almost cared for, although it had been abandoned for decades, perhaps longer. She continued down the hallway and stopped when she heard something like a chime. She held the light to the sound, and saw a little girl with something in her hands.

Julia dropped the cell phone and of course, the light went out.

“Oh shit,” she said through her teeth. She dropped to the floor and felt around, looking for the phone. She didn’t find it, and she began to panic a little.

“I’ve got it,” said the little girl. “Don’t worry, you’re okay.”

This did nothing to calm Julia down, nor did the fact that the voice was right in front of her. She looked up and saw the faint outline of the girl.

“Here you are,” said the girl, holding out the phone. The girl’s voice had what she thought was an English accent.

Julia slowly reached out and took the phone. She tried to get the flashlight back on, but couldn’t.

“Damn,” she said, shuddering.

“Don’t worry,” the little girl said. “I can provide some light.”

The lights in the fixtures all began to glow and illuminate the hallway. It was still dark, but she didn’t need the flashlight. It did nothing to soothe her.

“Why are you in here?” Julia said, a little rougher than she had intended.

“Where else should I be?” the girl replied.

“I don’t know,” Julia said. “Home?”

“My name is Victoria,” the girl said. “Would you like a look around?”

Julia got back to her feet and looked at the girl. “Um…sure. I guess.”

“Come this way,” Victoria said, and turned. She walked down the hall and then stopped. Her head spun back. “Are you coming, Julia?”

“Yes, I’m coming,” she replied, and walked after her. “How do you know my name?”

“I know the names of all my guests,” came the reply. “It’s only polite.”

Julia had no response. She was still in shock about the lights coming up, and the little girl.

Victoria stopped at an elevator and pushed the button. “We’re going up,” she said.

“Oh, I don’t think that works, honey,” Julia said.

Just then, the green UP arrow lighted, and she heard the elevator arrive. There was the ding of a bell, and the doors opened.

“You were saying?” Victoria said, giggling.

“I don’t think that’s safe,” Julia said flatly, not quite understanding what was happening.

“You’ve never been safer,” Victoria said. “Let’s see what floor we’re going to.”

Victoria walked into the elevator, but Julia hesitated.

“What is it?” Victoria asked.

“I’m afraid,” Julia said without thinking.

Victoria smiled. “I know,” she said. “That’s why you’re going to get on my lift. You’ve always been afraid.”

This made absolutely no sense to Julia, but somehow that fact didn’t matter.

It was true.

“Come along then, Julia. There are things to see.”

Julia stepped into the lift, and the doors closed immediately behind her.

“So, what floor shall we go to?” Victoria asked.

“I have no idea,” Julia said.

“I wasn’t talking to you,” Victoria said, and then the button that read four lit up.

Julia held her breath as the lift began to move. “What’s happening?”

“We’re going to the fourth floor, silly. Can’t you see the number?”

“I can see the number, but I don’t understand any of this.”

“True, but that’s never the point, is it? What’s important is you will understand. Do you like music boxes?”

“Wait, what?”

“Don’t get cross, it’s a simple question. I’m going to answer for you: yes, you do. Listen.”

Victoria opened her music box, gave the key a turn, and a very familiar song began to play.

It was “Rainbow Connection” from the Muppet Movie. Her mother’s favorite song.

“It’s an awfully pretty song, isn’t it?”

“Can you stop that?”

Victoria closed the box, stopping the music. “Do you not like it?”

“No, I don’t,” Julia said, but she was lying.

“Maybe I’ll play it again later,” Victoria said.

The lift stopped and the bell chimed again. The doors opened. Julia looked out, expecting to see another darkly-lit hallway.

She saw her mother’s kitchen.

“How the hell…”

Against everything inside, which was screaming, she walked off of the lift and into the kitchen. Almost as soon as she did, she smelled it.

Cake.

Her mother was baking a cake.

But her mother was dead.

And yet she wasn’t, because Julia saw her walk into the kitchen, cigarette dangling out of her mouth. She looked at Julia and smiled. “Doesn’t it smell good, Jules?”

Julia nodded and looked down for Victoria.

She was gone.

Julia looked behind her, and the lift was gone too. She was in her mother’s kitchen, all alone with a dead woman.

Her head snapped around and found a cloud of blueish smoke from her mother’s cigarette in her face. She coughed a little and waved her hand. Her mother gave a raspy laugh.

“Oh, stop it, it’s not gonna kill you,” Mom said.

Julia’s head was spinning; this was one hell of a hallucination. It was a dream, it had to be. It seemed all so real, but she knew it was a dream.

Right?

“I’m glad you’re here,” her mom said. “Come sit down. We need to talk.”

She reached up and ran her hand along Julia’s face gently. She looked up at Julia and smiled sadly, then left the kitchen.

Julia stood there for a moment.

Just a dream, she thought.

She followed her mother out of the kitchen.

Her mother sat next to a window in the dining room. She had her smoke and her awful coffee cup, filled with even more awful instant coffee.

“Sit down, Jules,” her mother said. “I need to talk to you.”

Julia found a seat farthest from her mother and sat. She looked at her mother blankly.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Mother started. “I’m supposed to be dead. And I am.”

“This is just a really fucked-up dream,” Julia said.

“Sure,” her mother said, smiling. “Then you’re in a consequence-free environment. Nothing to fear. No need to hold back, right?”

“I guess…”

“You’re a very angry woman,” Mother said. “Do you think it’s because you’re a dyke? I’ve never really seen happy dykes.”

This brutal sentiment snapped Julia back a bit from her daze. “That’s a really lousy thing to say. You just called me dyke.”

“That’s what you are, isn’t it?” Mother asked. “Is that not the right word? We didn’t have them when I was growing up.”

“That’s bullshit,” Julia said, getting louder.

“I wanted grandkids,” Mother said. “Vince is never gonna have any. All I wanted was that, really. And for you two to be happy.”

“You know you always said that,” Julia said. “But all you really wanted was to get high.”

Mother nodded.

“There was that,” she said, “and look where that finally got me. But how could I not get high? Look at all I had to deal with.”

“Oh, that’s right, you’re a victim,” Julia said, laughing. “Gay daughter, lazy son, divorced, alcoholic drug addict. Certainly nothing you could have done wrong…except you’ve always been an addict.”

“Well,” Mother said with an air of indignity. “Not anymore.”

“Why, because you’re dead? That’s a shitty way to kick drugs,” Julia snapped.

“True, but it works,” her mother replied, and gave a raspy laugh. “I’ve been clean for a whole day! Aren’t you proud?”

Julia was almost too furious to notice how absurd this all was, and how unlikely. Part of her registered that this was an impossible conversation, but a much angrier part of her didn’t care.

“I see you’re angry,” Mother said. “I don’t blame you. My death has ruined your routine. How unfortunate. I truly am sorry. But I needed to talk to you.”

“So you waited until you were dead,” Julia said through her teeth. “Your timing sucks as it always sucked.”

“Ooh, I have to check on the cake. Come give me a hand,” Mother said suddenly. She got up and rushed into the kitchen.

Julia sighed and got up to follow her.

She walked into the kitchen and watched as her mother pulled the flattish-looking cake out of the oven. She inhaled; it certainly smelled like cake, but it looked like a flat pile of something, the way her mother’s cakes always looked.

“I just don’t know why they always look like this,” Mother said as she put the cake on the counter to cool. “I follow the directions to the letter.”

Julia laughed. “No you don’t,” she said. “Does that look like you followed the directions?”

Her mother frowned. “You used to love making cakes with me. And you always ate them.”

“Well, they always tasted good, but you always left out eggs.”

Her mother looked at her, somewhat shocked. “Eggs?”

“Always, eggs. Every single time.”

“Well, when were you going to tell me?” Mother asked. “I mean, I’m dead now, so what good is it?”

Julia let out a snort. “I always told you. Every single time. You never listened.”

“But you always ate it.”

“I didn’t want you to feel bad,” Julia said quietly.

Her mother sighed. “So you just ate shit cake to spare my feelings?”

“Pretty much. Me and Vince. You seemed to enjoy making it and really, it was the only time you seemed happy. Why would I ruin that?”

Julia’s mother pushed past her to go back into the dining room. Julia followed.

“What?” Julia asked. “Why, of all things, is that the one you feel bad about?”

Her mother sat down hard. She looked up at Julia, eyes welling with tears.

“You did try to tell me, didn’t you?” She slammed a fist on the table. “Why didn’t I listen?”

“Because you were high and drunk most of the time, Mom. You never listened to us. You never listened to me unless I told you something you couldn’t handle. Apparently, putting goddamn eggs in a cake was one of them.”

“You watch your mouth. Don’t talk to me like that,” Mother said.

“No,” Julia said, sitting back down across from her. “I will talk to you like this. I’m an adult. I’m a successful adult. I own things. I’m rich, and I did it all responsibly. I don’t get high, I don’t not follow directions, and I’ve made something of myself. I did something, and I’m rewarded well for it, in spite of how I was or wasn’t raised by you. All you did was tell me I was going to rot in hell for being a lesbian, but I actually did something with my life.”

“I didn’t want you to be alone like me,” Mother said. “I never wanted you to suffer like me, or want for things you couldn’t have because of what you are.”

“What I am,” Julia started, “is a goddamn success story.”

“You’re not a mother. You can’t judge me. You and your brother didn’t come with instructions.”

Julia gave a harsh laugh. “That’s what you always said. ‘You kids didn’t come with an instruction manual.’ You didn’t come with one either. And Jesus, you were just awful.”

“Why didn’t you ever say anything to me?”

“Because you’re my mother!” Julia yelled. “You were supposed to be the responsible one. You were supposed to take care of us. You were supposed to take care of me. And what happened? Vin and I had to peel you off the floor in the morning. We had to clean you up so you could go to work, when you had a job. Instead of sleepovers and hanging out with the friends we could cobble together, we had to make sure you didn’t choke on your own puke when you passed out. We raised ourselves. And frankly, Vince did a lousy job, but he still stayed and took care of you. He paused his whole life to keep taking care of you.”

“But you just left,” Mother said. “You didn’t take him along. He just stayed here.”

“That’s not my fault,” Julia said. “None of this is my fault. You messed up your life, and if I hadn’t left, you would’ve messed up my life too.”

“But haven’t you messed your life up on your own?” her mother asked, crying. “No spouse, no children. Just you.”

“I’m rich,” Julia said.

“So?”

“What do you mean ‘so’?”

“You don’t have any family. You don’t have any friends. You have your job and you make money. That’s your whole thing, isn’t it? Money. Are you even still a dyke if you’re not with anyone? You have things, but what do you have? You don’t give a shit about your brother, and you sure don’t give a shit about me. You have money, but what do you actually have?”

“You don’t get it, Mom. You never got it.”

“No, you’re wrong. I think finally I do get it. I was a shit mother. Still am, apparently. Honestly, I was never a good mother. I know that now.” There was a hitch to her voice. “No. I’ve always known that. Awful mother, and I can’t apologize enough for it. I don’t think I should apologize for it, because it wouldn’t mean anything. I love you and your brother. I always did, but I didn’t love myself, because I don’t think I should have ever been a mother.”

Julia couldn’t believe her ears.

“But I was a mother. I was just a really shitty one.”

Julia felt a hitch in her throat gathering, but she cleared her throat. “Is this your idea of an apology?”

Her mother shook her head.

“No, not an apology. You wouldn’t accept one if I gave it, because even though I admit I was a bad mom, I don’t think I did anything wrong. I know I did, but it’s much too late for that now. All I can do now is tell you what you already knew, and one more thing before you go.”

Julia had been so wrapped up in what was happening, she’d forgotten that this shouldn’t be happening at all. She had no idea how she was going to get back to wherever the hell she came from. And where was that little girl?

“And what’s that?” Julia asked.

“Don’t end up like me.”

“Impossible,” Julia said. “I’m nothing like you.”

“But you are,” Mother said. “You’re filling a large hole that I carved into you because I was constantly trying to feel anything at all. Booze, drugs…nothing I should have been doing with two kids. But I couldn’t feel anything except a total failure. You, you fill up on things. Money, property, stuff, and it feels good until it doesn’t, and you have to do it again. And again. Sure, you’re rich. But when you die…”

Her Mother pointed around the room.

“This is where I died. This is where I am now. This is what I built. Vince wants to have a wake for me, and you rightfully asked who was going to come to it. No one, that’s who. You and him, and you don’t have a single reason to, other than I’m your mother. I earned that. That’s what I made. That’s how I go out. A burden in life and in death.”

Julia sat and looked at her mother. There was an expression on her face Julia had never seen before.

Acknowledgment.

“So don’t you end up like me. You hear? I don’t care that you’re a lesbian. I never did, I’m just an asshole. I’m glad you have money, but don’t try to fill yourself with anything that isn’t good. You can’t fill yourself with emptiness. You have people around you already that love you. Don’t shut them out, even if it’s just your brother. He needs you.”

“So you die and suddenly you’re fine that I’m gay?”

Her mother laughed.

“It’s your life, Jules. It was something that made you happy, and I didn’t get that. I still don’t exactly get it, but it’s part of you. Just like I’m always going to be part of you, and that’s why you need to stop and hear me. Don’t wind up like me. Be happy.”

Julia simply stared at this woman, whom she had hated for most of her life. For a moment, she hated her even more than ever.

Her mother smiled. “I know,” she said. “I’m infuriating. I always have been, but that’s done now. I’m not going to see you after this. But I wanted to tell you this before you left. I love you, Julia.”

Julia began to cry bitter and hard tears. She looked at her mother through them and found she couldn’t speak.

Her mother stood up and went over to Julia. As Julia stood up, her mother grabbed her, hugging her hard. The cries from Julia came in loud wails and still, her mother held her.

“Shhhh, baby. Let it out,” her mother said. “I’m so sorry, Julia. I’m so very sorry.”

Julia hugged her mother back, just as hard. They stood that way for what felt like a long time. A time, Julia knew, that had to be coming to an end.

Her mother loosened her hold on Julia and looked at her. “I never saw you cry,” she said.

Julia laughed a little. “I never had a reason to.”

Her mother wiped her tears with her fingers. “You always had a reason to,” she said, and kissed her daughter on the cheek. “How about some terrible cake?”

Julia and her mother laughed.

“Sit down, Mom. I’ll go get it.”

She started to turn to return to the kitchen, but her mother gently grabbed her and gave her another kiss.

“I’ll be right back,” Julia said, and walked into the kitchen. As she walked to the cake, still sitting there on the counter, she heard a bell chime.

It was the same chime from the lift.

She looked next to the cake, and there the lift was, open and waiting. Victoria was in there too, with her music box.

“It’s time to go, Julia,” Victoria said.

“But…we were going to have cake.”

From behind her in the living room, she heard the opening banjo chords to “Rainbow Connection” playing on an old record player.

“I know,” Victoria said sadly. “But we have to go now.”

Julia stood there for a moment, listening to the song.

There were a lot of things she wanted to say to her mother. There were still things that were going to make her angry. She knew she could possibly never forgive her mother for some things, but for the moment, everything had already been expressed. Unspoken, in a really good hug and a cry.

Julia walked into the lift, and the door slowly closed behind her.

The lift reached the lobby, and the doors opened. The hallway was still lit from the old fixtures and she walked into it, followed by the little girl.

Julia just stood there for a moment, not really wanting to walk anywhere. She looked down at the little girl, whose eyes had a slight green glow to them.

“What was that?” Julia asked.

“It was a long overdue visit with your mum,” Victoria said. “How do you feel?”

“I’m not really sure,” Julia said. Her eyes were still wet with tears. “I wish I could’ve listened to that song with her one more time.”

Victoria smiled. “Would you like to hear it now?” she asked. “It’s still ready for you to listen to it on my music box.”

Julia smiled. “Thank you Victoria, but I’m going to go back to see my brother. My mom had that song on a record player. It’s still there, I think. I think we should listen to it together. We have funeral arrangements to make.”

“That’s probably a good idea,” Victoria said. She reached out and took Julia’s hand. “I’ll walk you out, Julia.”

Julia nodded.

The two of them walked in silence towards the front door. As they walked, the light fixtures began to dim. The sunlight streamed through the front door, lighting the way.

“I’m not going to buy your building,” Julia said. “At least, I don’t think I should.”

“Well, that’s a relief,” Victoria said, chuckling. “Wherever would I go if you did?”

“Exactly,” Julia said, chuckling herself. “Where else should you be?”

The two reached the door.

“I’ll leave you to it, then,” Victoria said.

Julia looked at Victoria and smiled. She bent down and gave the little girl a kiss on her cheek.

Victoria smiled. “Good luck with everything. Thanks for the visit, and the kiss.”

She turned and walked into the darkness.

Julia watched until she couldn’t see the little girl, or the glow from her eyes.

She smiled again.

She turned and walked into the light.

End

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Story from “The Lift: Nine Stories of Transformation, Volume One”